Sweet Dreams
by gemini13me
Summary: "I wanna use you and abuse you. I wanna know what's inside you. Moving on, moving on."
**A/N I wrote this o/s a while ago and wanted to share it with you.
**

 **Thank you, sweet Deb. You are wonderful xx  
**

* * *

 ** _You can be a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare_**  
 ** _Either way I don't wanna wake up from you._**

* * *

"Beautiful day," Rosalie commented. She rearranged her sunglasses, glancing at a group of girls passing by us, some wearing dresses, some skirts.

It was the beginning of April and the trees were in full bloom. I raised my face, allowing myself to bask in the sunlight for a moment.

"So, where is this thing you're taking me?" I asked, looking at my friend, who was still busy observing people on the street.

"We're almost there," she answered, pointing to a building ahead of us.

As we approached, an elegant red and white sign caught my attention. _Sweet Dreams_ it said, hanging on top of a glass door. Lower, written in smaller letters, was someone's signature: _by Edward Masen_.

"Who's Edward Masen, Rose?"

She gave me a guilty look and smiled. "Well, apparently, he's a world renowned chef. I saw this story on him on the news last night, and let me tell you he is absolutely gorgeous."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Seriously? You dragged me here because whoever runs this place is hot? I'm not interested in watching you make a pass at him, thank you very much."

"Oh, come on, Bella." She linked her arm with mine, urging me on. "I heard their cupcakes are amazing. Don't be such a grump."

I sighed. "You do know I have a patient due in forty minutes."

"We'll make it back in time."

The pastry shop looked classy, decorated in soft shades of white and yellow with touches of red. We stepped in, and I was surprised to see the place was packed. Rosalie walked towards the showcase, and I followed her, amazed at the variety of products. From cakes to chocolates to ice cream and scones, this place had pretty much any sweet delight you could think of. I stared at the display, unable to decide.

"Can I get you anything?"

I looked up to see a petite brunette, rocking a sleek bob, stare back at us with a wide smile. She was wearing a crisp white shirt and an apron to match her pencil red skirt.

"Yes," Rosalie responded decisively. "I'll have the pain au chocolat and a red velvet cupcake. Oh, and I see you have coffee as well. I'll take a cappuccino." She turned to me. "Bella?"

"Uh, I guess I'll have an apple tart and a decaf macchiato."

Still smiling, the barista nodded, setting to work.

"Is the owner here?" Rosalie suddenly asked, and I immediately turned red in embarrassment.

I prided myself in being a reputable psychologist, but Rosalie managed to make me blush even to this day.

She and I had known each other since high school, and despite our completely different personalities, we remained friends. Rosalie was confident, energetic, and not ashamed to speak her mind, while I was always the diplomat, the good girl trying to do the right thing. Rosalie was fun and sometimes wild, and I admired that about her. She was everything I wasn't, and if I had to psychoanalyze myself, I'd say that was what drew me so close to her in the first place. I looked up to her, but also felt comfortable being myself in her presence. That was, when she wasn't asking complete strangers about men she'd seen on TV.

The girl behind the counter stopped what she was doing, looking up with raised eyebrows. "Edward?"

Rosalie smiled. "Yeah, him."

"He's in the back," she answered; a knowing look on her face. "Do you want me to get him?"

"No," I said quickly, stopping a train wreck in the happening. "My friend is just being nosy."

Rosalie gave me a pointed look. "I simply want to meet the man who is responsible for all these amazing things, Bella." She casually waved her hand in the direction of the showcase. "I am allowed to congratulate him in person, am I not?"

Realizing there was nothing I could do to stop her, I shook my head. "Whatever," I muttered. "You're a grown woman."

"That I am." She grinned, turning to the barista. "I'd like a word with him, please."

"Jake," the girl said, addressing a tall, muscular guy. "Get Edward for me, please."

The guy nodded, disappearing behind a heavy door. A minute later, he appeared with another man in tow. I stared at him and suddenly understood why Rosalie was so bent on meeting him. The man was gorgeous. He was at least six-foot-tall, had light brown hair nicely swept to the side with an edgy undercut, and vibrant green eyes. He took us in and smiled.

"Ladies," he spoke, his voice a perfect blend of rough and soft. "I'm Edward Masen. What can I do for you?"

"Rosalie Hale," Rose presented herself, extending a hand, which he shook lightly. "This is my friend Isabella Swan."

He held out his hand to me, and I stared at it for a second before catching myself. "Hi."

The moment our hands touched, I felt a jolt of static electricity, and immediately pulled mine back as if I'd been burned. "Sorry," I apologized.

He didn't seem fazed by it. "It's okay."

"I saw your story on the news last night," Rosalie said, bringing his attention back to her. "I was intrigued, so I had to stop by."

"That is very kind of you," he answered politely. "I seem to be quite popular today."

"Oh?" Rosalie was intrigued yet again.

"The lovely ladies over there." He nodded towards a table of three. "They asked to see me as well."

I was mortified, and for a minute Rosalie was rendered speechless. However, she recovered quickly. "Well, wasn't that the point of the story, to bring in more customers? They even added the creepy factor, and all."

I, for one, had no idea what Rosalie was talking about.

"I dare say it was." He smiled, but it wasn't genuine. "I see you've ordered the apple tart. It's a delectable choice."

"Yeah." Rosalie didn't look the least bit interested in what we'd ordered. "So why New York? I hear you're from Chicago."

"I like New York," he answered simply. "I was in London until last year but got bored and decided to come here instead."

"I'm glad you did."

He gave a soft chuckle, very much aware of what game Rosalie was playing. "So am I." He pushed our tray in front of us, effectively ending the embarrassing one-sided flirting. "Enjoy."

Rosalie gave him an icy look for being so blatantly rejected, picking up the tray. "Good luck with your business."

"Thank you," he replied, his eyes moving over to me.

I smiled faintly, mostly in apology, following after my friend. We found a table and sat down.

"That was terrible," I hissed, throwing her a nasty glare. "I can't believe you did that."

"And I can't believe he had the gall to turn down my advances."

"You're insane," I concluded, shaking my head. Furiously, I grabbed the fork, tearing into my apple tart, and nearly moaned when my tasting buds were assaulted with the most amazing flavor in the world.

"Wow." I stared down at my plate. "This is really good."

"What the fuck is that asshat staring at?"

"What?" I looked up, confused. Rosalie was glaring in the direction of the cash register.

My eyes followed, and I was shocked to see Edward Masen was still there watching us.

"Oh, my God," I breathed out, my eyes barely making contact before I was staring down at my plate again, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Rosalie let out a deriding snort. "Stop making such a big fuss about it. I took a chance and he turned me down. Big fucking deal."

"You know, Rose," I said, giving her my no-nonsense look, "I usually advise my patients to be confident and take matters into their own hands. Some do, and that's okay, but you, my friend, are an entirely different category."

"Why, thank you." She gave me a fake smile, flipping me off. "Stop throwing your psychological bullshit at me. I'm not interested."

I groaned, realizing I was getting nowhere. "Eat your damn cupcake and let's get out of here."

 _ **SD**_

"When will I see you again?" my patient asked, throwing me an anxious look.

"Do we have an opening tomorrow?" I directed the question at my assistant, Angela.

She checked my schedule, nodding. "I can squeeze her in at three."

"Is three good for you, Lauren?" I looked at the nineteen-year-old.

She nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I watched as she pushed her backpack onto her shoulder and headed towards the door with small steps, assaulted by an overwhelming surge of pity. Years on the job, and there were still times I couldn't completely detach myself from my patients' personal dramas. Lauren was just one of those cases. Her older sister had died three months prior in a car crash, and the poor thing was devastated. She'd developed depression and anxiety, and was now counting on me to help her get through it all.

"You've got that look again, Bella." Angela's voice brought me out of my reverie.

"What look?" I feigned innocence.

She shook her head at me. "The look that says you'd like to take her home and watch over her twenty-four seven."

I shrugged, not bothering to answer that. "I'll be in my office."

Sitting at my desk, I opened YouTube, pressing play on the video idling there. Light classical music filled the silence, and I leaned back into my chair, closing my eyes.

I started dozing off when there was a knock on the door. Whoever was on the other side didn't feel the need to wait for my reply as the door opened. Rosalie stepped in, wearing black pumps and a form-fitting dress.

"Hey, sexy." She grinned, seeing the annoyed expression on my face.

"What do you want, woman? Can't I have one moment of peace?"

"Let me think." She plopped down in the chair in front of me, crossing her long legs. "I guess not."

"Don't you have a business to run?"

Rosalie worked on the top floor of the same building, running her own spa.

"Yes, but I came to complain, so shut up and listen."

I turned down the music, reaching for my mug of tea. "Do I get paid?"

"You get fifty percent off for a massage."

I laughed, motioning that she could start her rant.

"So, you remember that guy I was seeing? The one with the hot dad bod and blue eyes?"

"You mean Michael?" I said dryly.

"Yeah, that's the name. Michael."

I sighed in defeat. Did I forget to mention my friend was the female version of a manwhore?

"What about him, Rose?"

She ran a hand through her long hair, frowning. "He isn't answering my calls anymore, and I don't know what to make of it."

"Isn't it obvious?" I gave her a look that said _Are you that dense?_ "He isn't interested anymore."

She huffed. "How come, Bella? Why wouldn't he be interested? I'm hot."

I chuckled, covering my face with my hands. "Oh, God. You're such a conceited bitch suffering from a princess syndrome."

"Yeah, you tell me that all the time, but seriously, _I am_ hot. I'm a good catch, damn it."

I glanced at my watch, seeing it was nearly time for my next appointment. "Maybe he's looking for something more serious. Or maybe he just doesn't want to see you anymore. Either way, you need to drop it. There are plenty of other guys you can date."

She seemed to ponder it for a moment. "Yeah, you're probably right. We should go out tonight."

"No," I said flatly. "I have things to do."

"Such as?"

"Lying with my dog on the couch, drinking wine, and watching _Hannibal_."

Rosalie groaned. "Please don't. You need a life, Bella."

"I _have_ a life, which I happen to love."

"Whatever." She got up, heading for the door. "Call me if you change your mind."

 _ **SD**_

On my way home to my apartment, I decided to detour to the local _Dean & Deluca_. Grabbing a shopping cart, I headed to the fruit and veggie racks, picking up some tomatoes, apples, and a couple of green salads. I filled the cart with the rest of the stuff I needed before walking to the wine section. Selecting a bottle of white, I inspected the label.

"May I recommend the _Chablis_?"

I looked up with a frown, and was shocked to see none other than Edward Masen stand there, holding his own shopping cart. He was dressed casually in jeans and a light blue button up; the sole exception to his outfit was an expensive-looking watch.

"I, uh… hello."

He smiled. "Isabella Swan, right?"

"Right." I shook my head, offering him a smile. "Sorry, you took me by surprise. Please accept my apology for my friend's behavior earlier today. We didn't mean to harass you at your workplace."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I didn't mind. Not much anyway." His eyes surveyed my groceries. "Are you planning to make dinner?"

"Yeah, nothing fancy, just some pasta and a green salad. What about you?"

"I'm cooking duck for a few friends tonight, and for dessert I opted for _crème brûlée."_

"Sounds delicious," I said sincerely. "I haven't had _crème brûlée_ in forever."

He stared at me, looking as if he wanted to say something, but didn't. His gaze directed towards my shopping cart again. "I noticed you like apples."

"Guilty." I chuckled. "Anything involving apples is my favorite dessert."

"I'll keep that in mind," he responded, and if he didn't sound so serious I might've thought he was flirting.

"I should go," I said after a moment, replacing the bottle I was holding with the one he'd recommended. "It was nice seeing you."

He nodded, making room for me to pass. "Come by again, sometime."

 _ **SD**_

About a week later, I found myself in front of _Sweet Dreams_ , trying to decide what to do. Their cakes were incredible, but that wasn't why I stood there, watching people go in and out.

I'd been thinking of Edward Masen ever since running into him at _Dean & Deluca_; his face and voice so clearly etched in my brain, as if it had all happened hours earlier. I didn't know anything about the man, and yet I felt incredibly drawn to him. I'd never felt that way about anyone. It seemed almost unnatural, as if there was some invisible force pulling me towards this place… _his place_.

Maybe he had a girlfriend, or even worse, he was married, and there I was, using my lunch break to come see him. I felt stupid for doing it, but somehow couldn't bring myself to leave.

 _If Rose could see me now…_ I thought to myself with a sigh.

First, she'd kill me for being interested in a guy she liked. Second, she'd kill me all over again for not letting her tag along.

After a while, I couldn't take it anymore and finally decided to go inside. Just like the first time, the place was packed. The girl with the sleek bob was there, attending to a customer. I walked over, inspecting my options.

I was tempted to grab the apple tart again when something else caught my attention. Written in Italic with beautiful letters, was my name on a white piece of paper. _Isabella's Cake_ , it said, and I stared with wide eyes, not knowing what to make of it.

"Can I get you anything?" the brunette asked.

Tearing my eyes away from the display, I looked at her. "I was just wondering… Is this cake new?" I pointed to the one in question.

"Yeah." She smiled. "It's pretty good, too. It has apple filling and it's topped with a thin layer of _crème brûlée._ "

"You've got to be kidding me," I murmured under my breath, still finding it hard to believe a man I'd only met once made a cake bearing my name.

"What was that?"

"Uh, I'll have a piece of _Isabella's Cake_ , please."

"Sure," the girl said, and for the first time, I noticed her nametag. It said Alice.

After paying, I found a table and sat down with my cake and bottle of water. Grabbing the fork, I took a small bite, and couldn't believe how scrumptious it was. The richness of the _crème brûlée_ topping was balanced by the apple filling, still sweet but with a sour tinge to it. Swallowing, I took another bite, then another.

"I see you like the cake I made you."

The chair across from me scraped over the floor as Edward himself joined me at the table.

"It's amazing." I blushed at how intensely he was watching me. "Why did you do it?"

"You inspired me," he answered, matter-of-fact. "I think you're beautiful, and I'd hoped you'd come see me again."

He was the kind of guy who wasn't afraid to speak his mind, and I found that quite hot.

"Thank you." I gave him a smile.

"Tell you what," he said after a minute of simply watching me. "How about you join me for dinner tonight?"

I shrugged noncommittally, forking my dessert. "I don't know."

"Come on," he coaxed, staring at me with mesmerizing, green eyes. "I promise I have no bad intentions. You've caught my attention, and I'd like to get to know you."

I had to admit his offer of dinner was tempting. _Too_ tempting, even.

He was good-looking, charming, and seemed to have nice manners. I hadn't had a good date in a while, and his invite actually seemed promising.

I bit my lip, pondering. There was no point in lying to myself. I'd come here to see him, and the fact he was asking for a date was thrilling.

"So, what did you have in mind?"

He smiled, triumphant. "I'd like to cook for you."

"You want me to come to your place?" I asked with raised eyebrows.

He shook his head, keeping his smile. "Too forward?"

I chuckled. "Uh, yeah, a bit."

Edward leaned back into his chair, his hands resting on the table in front of him. "I'd ask you to trust that we won't be doing anything you don't feel comfortable with, but I think I would be pushing my luck."

"Look," I said, tucking a strand of curly hair behind my ear, "you seem nice, but I'd rather we go to a restaurant."

He put up his hands. "Fair enough. If you give me an address, I'll pick you up at eight."

"I can take a cab."

"Nonsense."

"Fine," I conceded, pulling out a card and handing it to him. "You can call me on this number. I'll give you the address then."

He stood, pushing the card into his jeans pocket. "Enjoy your cake."

With that, he left, disappearing behind a door labeled with a sign: _STAFF ONLY_.

 _ **SD**_

Later that evening, getting ready for my date with Edward, I realized I was putting in more effort than usual.

I straightened my naturally curly hair, pulling it up in a sleek ponytail, put on a bit more makeup than I normally wore, and even applied a dark red shade of lipstick.

Lying at my feet, my two-year-old Golden Retriever, Sarah, was watching me with doggy interest.

Looking through my dresser, I had yet to decide what to wear. A pair of nude stilettos caught my eye, and I immediately settled on them. I found a simple yet stylish black dress to pair them with, and felt satisfied with the result as I admired myself in the mirror.

Stealing a glance at my silver bracelet watch, I saw it was almost eight. As if on cue, my phone started ringing, and I rushed to answer it.

"I'm downstairs," Edward's warm voice greeted me.

"I'll be right there."

Grabbing my jacket and clutch, I hurried to get out of my apartment. Suddenly, Sarah was on her feet, running towards me. With a loud bark she jumped on me, starting to lick my face.

"Sarah." I laughed, getting her down. "Don't ruin the makeup, girl."

She barked again, standing on her hind legs. Bark after bark, she was getting louder and louder.

"Okay…" I gave her a curious look, patting her head. "You're acting strange today." Shushing her, I opened the front door, preparing my exit. "I won't be long, I promise. Be a good girl for Mommy."

Her bark followed me all the way down.

There was a sleek silver BMW parked in front of the building, and my date was casually leaning against it. He was wearing black pants and a leather jacket over a white shirt, and I had to admit he looked even better than before.

"You look great," Edward noticed with a smile, opening the passenger door for me. "I love the lipstick."

"Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself," I replied, climbing in.

He closed the door, rounding the car to get in behind the wheel. He put the car in gear, smoothly easing out of the parking lot.

"Where to?" I asked, watching him.

"I made reservations at _Riverpark_. Is that okay with you?"

"It's kind of expensive."

He smiled, stealing a glance at me. "Don't worry, I saved up."

The drive to our destination was accompanied by casual talk, and I was glad I'd accepted Edward's invitation to dinner. I felt so at ease in his presence that I nearly forgot I knew him for such a short while.

Edward parked the car up front, getting out, and handing his key to the same valet who'd opened my door.

"Mr. Masen." The perky redhead at the host stand gave him a blinding smile. "Table for two?"

"Yes, Victoria. Thank you."

"Follow me, please."

Edward put his hand on the small of my back, motioning that I should go first. He held my chair for me as Victoria set our menus in front of us.

"Your waiter will be with you in a minute."

I opened my menu, poring over it and trying not to gape at the prices. I had to admit I liked the occasional treat to a good restaurant, but this felt a bit too out of my comfort zone. However, Edward had picked the place, and I did my best not to seem rude by not appreciating his choice of venue.

A man wearing an impeccable uniform joined us. "Good evening. My name is Marcus and I'll be your server for the evening. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Edward glanced at me. "Is wine okay with you?"

I nodded. "Can we get a rosé?"

He smiled, seeming to agree. "How about Domaine Chandon's _Étoile Rosé_? It's California based."

I smiled back. "You're the wine expert."

 _ **SD**_

When our dinner arrived, Edward and I were already deep in conversation.

"…so I said to hell with it and decided it was the right time to leave for England. I had a friend there, which brought me some comfort, because I knew I wasn't going to be completely alone in a foreign country."

"When was that?" I inquired, taking a bite of my grilled salmon. It tasted divine.

"In late 2005."

"And you only got back recently."

He nodded. "Last year."

I reached for my wine, sipping on it, and it was obvious Edward was very good at his job. The wine, just like the dinner, was absolutely delicious. "So why a cake shop? Why not a high-end restaurant like this one?"

Edward shrugged nonchalantly, sipping his own wine. "I wanted to try something a bit different. I like it so far."

"How did you get on the news?"

He stared at his place, frowning. "You've seen that?"

"Sorry, but no." I smiled, guilty. "My friend Rosalie has and she told me about it. Should I have seen it? Was it a good story on you?"

He shook his head, cutting a piece of his steak. "They got a few things wrong."

"Oh?"

His lips stretched into a soft smile as he decided to change the subject. "Enough about me. What about you? What is it that you do?"

"I'm a psychologist."

"Really." His eyebrows shot up. He looked genuinely surprised, and if I wasn't wrong, a bit pleased. "Well, if I think about it, it does fit you."

"What do you mean?"

He leaned forward, getting a conspiratorial air. "You have a calming effect on people."

I mirrored his position. "Does that mean I have a calming effect on you?" I asked teasingly.

"Maybe," he answered. His voice dropped as he fixed me with his eyes over the candlelit table.

I smiled, focusing on my plate.

"I like you, Isabella."

His sudden confession made me look up. "You're very forward," I observed.

"Does it bother you?"

"No," I admitted. "I actually find it refreshing. Usually, I'm the one trying to make people talk."

His eyes caught the charm bracelet hanging from my wrist; his attention drawn to it. "A gift?"

"Yes. My father gave it to me."

His interest piqued. "Are you close with your parents?"

"I am." I reached for my glass of wine again. "They are divorced, but I get along well with both. Dad lives in Chicago and Mom moved back to her hometown after they got divorced, so I try to split the little free time I have between Chicago and Port Angeles."

"My parents also live in Chicago," Edward noted.

"Yeah, I remember Rosalie saying you were from Chicago."

He smiled, reminiscing. "It was a nice place to grow up; I had a ton of friends. As an adult, I tend to like New York a lot more, though. It's more vibrant and better suited to my professional needs." His fingers stroked the base of his wine glass absently. "Where did you grow up?"

"I was born in Chicago and raised there until my parents' divorce. Then, I moved to Port Angeles where I attended high school, and finally to New York when I started college."

"I guess we have that in common, then. We both left Chicago for New York."

Our waiter came to refill our glasses. "Is everything in order with your food?" he inquired politely, pouring wine with dexterous hands.

I nodded. "The food is great."

"Tell Emmett he could've done better," Edward said, amusement coloring his voice.

The waiter gave him a perplexed look, only to realize he was actually joking. He cracked a smile. "I will."

As the waiter left, I looked at Edward questioningly. "I gather you know the chef?"

"He's my best friend. We've known each other since kindergarten."

"Ah." I smiled. "And you've both followed the same career path. That's a bit peculiar, I guess."

Edward chuckled. "It must've been fate."

At some point during our dinner, Edward's friend made an appearance, stopping by our table. Edward's message had obviously been passed on.

"Good evening," he spoke in a deep voice, his expression serious. "I understand the food is not meeting expectations."

I took him in, noticing the broad, muscle-bound shoulders and curly dark hair. He was wearing a pristine black uniform that accentuated his narrow waist. Somehow, it crossed my mind that he looked exactly like Rosalie's type—tall, bulky, and quite handsome.

Across from me, Edward smirked. "I've had better."

Emmett's lips stretched into a lazy smile. He put his large hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing. "You're officially on _my_ black list, _Eddie_."

Edward laughed at the appellative, his eyes finding mine. "Em, this lovely lady is my date, Isabella."

Emmett turned to me, his gaze appraising me. Oddly, I felt as if he was weighing something in his mind. He and Edward exchanged a brief look before he took my hand, placing a soft kiss on its back. "Hello, Isabella. It's nice to meet you."

There was something about the way he'd looked at me that rubbed me the wrong way. I couldn't put my finger on it, but my instinct was rarely amiss.

I plastered a fake smile on my face, trying not to let on what was going on in my head.

"Likewise," I answered, gesturing to my plate. "The food is delicious."

He gave Edward a smug look. "I know."

Edward and Emmett exchanged a few more words, then he said his goodbye, wishing us a pleasant evening.

"Are you all right?" Edward asked, having recognized my swift change in disposition.

"I'm fine," I said, not wanting to admit that his friend had weirded me out.

Edward reached over the table, taking my hand into his. "Would you like dessert?"

His hand was warm and his skin soft, and just like that, I was back to feeling at ease. "Yes," I answered, grateful for the distraction.

"Let me make it for you." He sounded as if he was almost begging me.

"Where?" I asked with a small frown. "I thought we agreed your place was not an option. Neither is mine."

"We could go to my shop," he suggested, his hand still lingering over mine. When I failed to give him an answer, he sighed. "I understand your reticence. I simply wanted to make something special for you."

"Edward—" I started.

"It's fine." He removed his hand from mine, his good mood deflating. "We can order here."

I immediately felt guilty for his sudden drop in mood. I had no other reason to refuse him but my rule of no sex on the first date. I usually preferred to get to know a date a little better before jumping into bed with them, and there was no denying Edward and I were headed in that direction.

There was something about the man sitting on the other end of the table that called to me like a siren's song. Everything about him was sinfully tempting; from his green eyes and warm expression to the last ingrained part of his personality. I wanted to go with him, even though that little voice at the back of my head told me not to. I didn't know him well enough, and one-night stands weren't my thing. There was a natural fear of following him to a place unknown, but at the same time, my attraction to him was getting the best of me.

Defeated, I realized I couldn't say no. The pull was too strong.

For once in my life, I _wanted_ to take the risk.

"Okay," I agreed quietly. "We can go to your shop."

His expression lit with a beautiful smile. Lifting his hand, he motioned to our waiter. "Check please."

 _ **SD**_

Edward reached to his right, and a moment later, the cake shop was encased in a warm light. He smiled, offering to help me with my jacket. Throwing both our coats on a nearby chair, he grabbed my hand, leading me behind the register.

"What would you like to drink?" he asked, bending at the knees to reach down to a small fridge. "I have OJ, milk, water, and… that's about it. I could make you some coffee, although it's kind of late for caffeine."

"OJ is good."

He took out a jug of orange juice, procuring two glasses, and filling them.

"Cheers." He clinked his glass with mine, regarding me with a content expression. "I'm glad you decided to come."

"How could I refuse? You were two steps away from sulking. Besides, my job is to make people feel happier not shittier."

He laughed at my smart-ass reply. "I was actually counting on that."

"Har-har." I turned around, glancing at the deserted shop. "It looks nice. I like the touches of red."

"Red is my favorite color."

I threw him a smile over my shoulder. "Not many men can claim that."

Edward shrugged, not seeming to care. "I'm one of a kind."

"Now you're getting cocky."

He shook his head, reaching for me. "Come. Let me show you around back."

"You're not going to lock me up in your basement, are you?" I was half-joking, half-serious.

"Don't be silly."

We walked through a narrow hallway, passing a door that said _OFFICE_ and another door with nothing written on it. Finally, we reached the kitchen and Edward turned on the lights, letting out a soft, "Ta-da!"

I chuckled, inspecting my surroundings. Everything was immaculate and in perfect order. Compared to the shop itself, it looked very gray and bland.

"This is where the magic happens." Edward waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Great." I propped myself on a stool. "What now?"

He opened a narrow side door, pulling out an apron imprinted with the shop's logo. "Now, I make you the best dessert you've ever tasted."

"Okay." I grinned, leaning with my elbows on the island behind me. "Proceed."

It turned out Edward wanted to make me some sort of cake that didn't require any baking at all. He gathered the ingredients he needed, setting to work while I watched him, sipping on my orange juice.

We made small talk as he worked, and I had to admit I was fascinated. Not only did he move with smooth agility around the kitchen, but also, he was acutely intelligent, something I felt very drawn to.

We talked about my college years and his stay in London; about what made us happy, about relationships, and so much more. I was delighted to find out he was passionate about reading, and had even enjoyed a few of my favorite books.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as an Aristotle fan," I said, watching as he poured liquid cream into a bowl.

"He is _The Philosopher_."

"That he is. I almost wish I would've majored in philosophy. His works would have made for an interesting thesis."

"Speaking of..." He gave me an impish look, stirring effortlessly. "What was yours about?"

"I wrote about serial killers."

All of a sudden, the room grew quiet as he stopped stirring. He stared at me, bursting into a hoarse laugh. "Really."

"Yes, really." I frowned. "What's so funny?"

He shook his head, resuming his work. "Don't mind me." He smiled. "So, what is it about serial killers? What makes them so special?"

"First of, you could easily mistake one of them for being normal."

"Aren't they normal?"

"Physically, they are. Psychically, not so much."

"Oh?"

I leaned forward, excited about the subject. "Serial killers are mainly motivated by the psychological gratification of the act. They _enjoy_ doing it. They enjoy killing."

"So, that makes them insane?" He added sugar, continuing to mix the cream.

"No, not insane per se, but their brain works differently. Do you know the story of the Son of Sam?"

"Sure. He is New York's most infamous serial killer."

I nodded. "Everyone who knew him said he was quiet and polite, but he ended up going on a killing spree over the span of a full year."

"What made him do it?"

"He was adopted, but lived a happy childhood, and his foster parents loved him, so that wasn't what triggered the streak of violence. David, aka Son of Sam, had a natural propensity for violence. It was thought that there were biological factors which led to his mental instability."

"So, was he insane or not?" Edward insisted, seeming interested in my answer.

"In the conventional way, yes. But, if we look at it from a different point of view, he was highly intelligent, bearing psychological traits that separated him from the common day-to-day murderer. He was _different._ All serial killers are."

"You sound fascinated with the subject," Edward noted with amusement.

"I am. I studied the subject extensively."

"Would you know if you met one?"

I shrugged. "Maybe not right away. As I said, they are very intelligent. They can dissimulate pretty well."

Our chatter was disrupted by Edward's phone starting to ring. He brought it out of his pocket, bringing it to his ear. "Yeah?"

He listened to whoever was on the other line, staring into his bowl absently. After a minute, he spoke again, but only to end the one-sided conversation with a swift, "Don't worry about it."

He hung up, placing the phone on the island, beside the bowl.

"Is everything all right?" I inquired, sensing a shift in mood on his part.

He gave me a tight smile, and I got the impression that whatever the caller had said, didn't sit well with him. "Don't worry about it."

 _ **SD**_

His hands found my ass, and he lifted me so my legs wrapped around his waist. His lips left mine, descending towards my neck and sending a ripple of pure pleasure from the ends of my hairs to the tips of my toes.

"Edward," I murmured, letting my head fall back, my nails scratching the nape of his neck.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, biting lightly at the sensitive skin.

Things had gotten out of hand pretty quickly after the cake was done and eaten.

It felt so good I couldn't bring myself to care about how wrong it was. As I said, I didn't do one-night stands, but this man was making me lose my head with lust; something I hadn't experienced in my entire twenty-nine years.

Suddenly, his hand was working its way up my thigh and under my dress. Reaching my lacy underwear, he pushed it aside, his fingers slowly massaging my clit, finding their way inside. I gasped at the sensation, closing my eyes and allowing myself to just feel the pleasure he brought, instead of letting my mind overwork itself into a thinking frenzy.

His lips found mine again, and I responded to his kiss with the same passion and vigor he brought on. He pushed his fingers in and out, and it didn't take long before I was on edge, desperate for more.

 _Ring! Ring! Ring!_

It took a second for the noise to penetrate through the fog in my head. When it did, I pulled my mouth from Edward's. "Shouldn't you get that?"

"Later," he said, his eyes hooded with lust, resuming our kiss.

The phone stopped ringing, only to begin again seconds later with even more energy.

With a frustrated sigh, Edward pulled away, reaching behind me on the kitchen island. He stared at it for a moment, seeming to decide what to do.

"I'm sorry. I have to take this call."

I waved him off as if I didn't mind, even though the dull ache between my legs was becoming unbearable.

With a distant smile, he turned on his heels, exiting the kitchen with quick steps.

By the time five minutes had passed, and Edward hadn't returned, I jumped down from the island, starting to pace the kitchen. My discomfort was beginning to dissipate, the lusty haze evaporating.

I noticed a small flat TV mounted on the wall and reached for the remote, turning it on. I zapped through channels, finally settling on a local late night TV show.

" _That's the weird thing,"_ the host said. _"He was never accused of having done any of it."_

The man sitting opposite her shook his head. _"Sadly, there was no proof against him. But everyone knows he did it."_

I watched, getting caught in the show.

" _Did you see that news story on him last week? He was presented as quite the successful entrepreneur."_

The man let out a deriding snort. _"I don't know about that, Suzie. I heard that's his father's money he put in that bakery."_

A strange chill ran down my back.

 _Were they…?_

 _Was he…?_

The woman took a sip from her drink. _"So, we have a dangerous killer turned businessman in town, and no one seems to care. Even more, he's becoming famous for his successful venue. What happened to justice?"_

 _Murderer?_

My mind started working at a frantic pace. I threw a glance at the door, relieved he wasn't back yet.

" _The world has gone mad,"_ the man concluded. _"There is no other way to put it."_

The woman nodded, seeming to agree. _"I, for one, wouldn't set foot in that bake shop._ Sweet Dreams _, he calls it."_

The man shook his head. _"Oh, the irony."_ He sniggered. _"Rumor is: he lures his victims with his charm and decadent desserts."_

I couldn't bear to hear any more after that last statement, my brain trying to cope with the brutality of the revelation I'd just had.

How could I have been so stupid? How could I have accepted to come here with a man I barely knew? A man who had apparently murdered someone…

My job taught me not to judge people from others' perspectives, but in that moment, I found it very hard to search for the professional in me.

"I was really hoping you didn't see that."

I jumped, turning around with wide eyes to face a calm-looking Edward. He was gazing past me, at the TV screen.

"I, uh…" I forced out a stiff smile, trying to push down the horror that was starting to brew inside of me. "What were they talking about, if you don't mind me asking?"

 _Talk him through it, Bella. Talk him through it._

Edward ran a hand through his hair, still not looking at me. "I didn't do it, you know."

"Do what?" I asked in a shaky breath, desperate to find a way out of this nightmare.

"Killed those women."

I gasped, and started to tremble. I couldn't breathe, his answer effectively strangling the air out of me. On instinct, I took a step back.

His eyes found mine and they weren't friendly. He looked transformed, as if the man I went on a date with had been replaced with an evil version of himself.

"I was really starting to like you."

"Edward, I like you, too," I babbled, out of my mind with fear. "We can be friends."

He laughed then, a cold, heartless laugh that wrenched my gut. "Don't try this crap on me. You said it yourself: serial killers are more intelligent than they are given credit for."

I froze, my entire body going numb. "But you said…"

He shrugged, his face splitting into a sly grin. "Oops." He took a step towards me. "I guess I lied."

 _Ring! Ring! Ring!_ His phone went off yet again.

This time, he definitely wasn't going to answer it.

* * *

 **A/N Maybe she's going to talk her way out of it?**

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **xx**


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